closed the little eyes which had gazed into her
pale face so often and so tenderly, it seemed as if the sun, moon, and
stars had lost their light, and henceforth she was condemned to live in
dreary gloom.

What terrible days had followed the child's death! Cyriax raved as if he
had really been seized with the lunacy whose pretence helped him to beg
his bread. Besides, he gave himself up to unbridled indulgence in brandy,
and, when drunk, he was capable of the most brutal acts. The dead Juli's
mother, who, spite of an evil youth and a lenient conscience, was by no
means one of the worst of women, had to endure the harshest treatment
from her profligate companion.

The blow which had fallen upon him filled him with savage rage, and he
longed to inflict some pain upon all who came in his way that they, too,
might feel what it was to suffer.

The death of his "sweet little Juli" appeared to have hardened the last
tender spot in his brutal soul.

Kuni was the only person toward whom at first he imposed some restraint
upon himself. True, without any consideration for the girl's presence, he
sometimes asked Gitta why they still burdened themselves with the useless
hobbler and did not sell the cart and the donkey. But though there was no
lack of good offers for the excellent Spanish beast of burden, he allowed
matters to remain as before. If the rage seething in his heart led him,
in his drunken frenzy, to make Kuni feel its effects, too, the pleading
glance of the blue eyes, still large and expressive, with which she had
so often hushed the wailing child, sufficed to soothe him.

Yesterday, for the first time, he had seriously threatened to drive the
ropedancer away, and she knew that Cyriax was capable of anything. True,
his wife was attached to Kuni, but she had little influence over her
vicious husband. So the sick cripple might only too easily find herself
left on the highway.

Still, she had given Cyriax cause for the threat. All day and during the
night she had been busy with the unfortunate mother and her twins, and
therefore had frequently neglected to fill his brandy bottle. But this
could not be helped, and she was not accustomed to think of the future.
Whatever her heart urged she did, no matter what might happen. If Cyriax
left her in the lurch, she must beg or starve unless chance, which so
often mingled in her existence, willed otherwise.

With the child's life the modest happiness which Kuni had enjoyed